


Dream Bakery

by BlackIris



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Baking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Magic, Reader-Insert, Sassy, Shapeshifting, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackIris/pseuds/BlackIris
Summary: Prompts will be in bold throughout fic:128. Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.





	Dream Bakery

**Author's Note:**

> This one was screaming for angst, but I couldn’t commit to it. So here, have some fluffy crack cuteness stuff.  
> Un-beta'd, enjoy!

“What are  _those_?” Loki asks over Y/N shoulder as she works.

“Dough.” She sasses, “At least right now. It’ll be shortbread cookies in no time.”

She turns to him, dotting the tip of his nose with flour, laughing as his face scrunches.

“That is not what I meant.” Loki wipes at his face in disgust. “This? What is this?” 

He holds up a small box, filled with thin silver shapes.

“Oh. Cookie cutters.” Y/N holds back a laugh. “They shape the dough. I thought they were cute.”

“Is that all they do?”

“Well, yeah.”

Loki eyes the package and then Y/N.

“What?”

“[ **Drömmar**](https://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/30133046/).” Loki says, reading the name on the box, voice like silk. “You claim they shape dough, then why are they called this?”

Y/N stares at him, blinking hard, as if he’s spoken another language, which indeed, he just did.

“What?”

“Do you not know?

“Know what?”

He rolls his eyes, putting the small box on the counter. “Do you play me a fool?”

“No – I – what?”

“Why are they called ‘Dreams’? Are they of that realm? Do they hold its power?”

“Heh?”

“It would explain why Ratatoskr is included in this menagerie.”

“Rata—?" Y/N shakes her head, “Loki they’re  _just_  cookie cutters. I got them from Ikea.”  

Loki eyes her again, his fingers resting on the box to open the lid, pausing he asks, “May I?”

“Go ahead. I need to wash them before I use them anyways.”

Loki pulls out the squirrel cutter, holding it between his index finger and thumb, squeezing gently, watching as it moves.  

“Hmm.” He huffs at the thin metal figure, putting it in the sink. Picking up the largest of the set next, he fiddles with it in the same way. “They barely even have a hint of glamor – a child could wield it.”

“Lok. It’s an elk, not an eight-legged horse. Don’t worry.” Y/N says, shoulders bouncing with glee as his face darkens.

“And what would you know of that?”

“Enough to know  _of_  it.” Y/N shrugs, taking the box from Loki to dump the rest of the cutters into the sink. “Thor might have mentioned it when drunk one night.”

“Bumbling oaf can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“You’re not denying it?”

“Why would I?”

“I’m just a little surprised, s’all.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of them, as Y/N puts the dough in the fridge to chill whilst she washes the cutters and preps the counter tops. Loki easily falling into step beside her, handing her dirty dishes and drying items as they get cleaned.

Removing the dough from the fridge, Y/N flours the clean counter and starts working the dough. Loki doesn’t outright ask if he can help, he simply raises his brows looking back and forth between the dough and the woman beside him.

“Here, like this.” Y/N says, taking his hands, putting them on the rolling pin, and guides their actions with her own, working the dough from the middle out.

“There.” Y/N smiles, taking different cutters and pressing them into the dough.

“Seems easy enough.” Loki says, taking the hedge hog cutter and repeating her actions.

“Do you still think a child could ‘wield’ them?”

“Perhaps with some practice or any common sense.” He winks at her, picking up the newly formed cookie. “This however, I imagine takes more than simple skill.”

“I don’t know, I bet you couldn’t handle making them even if it came with instructions.” Y/N says, with a dramatic wink, putting the first tray of cookies into the oven.

“Ikea instructions, perhaps?” 

“Hey!”

Loki’s chest rumbles with dark laughter at Y/N’s shock and feigned outrage. “And who of the two of us, who can actually pronounce those fragile things you so adore from your beloved Ikea?”

Y/N’s lips press together as she shakes her head. “Ya know… I kinda hate you right now.”

“Hate me? Darling.” He smirks at her. “Please. Don’t try to lie to me. You stand no chance of getting away with it.”

“I… Fine.” Y/N huffs, mumbling to herself. “You’re still an ass!”

“An ass?” Loki’s smirk turns into a wicked smile, “Oh, no darling, not quite.”

Y/N looks at Loki, amused irritation rolling off her in waves. His eyes flash green with mischief and magic. She doesn’t fully comprehend his words, as she stares in shock; before her, where Loki once was now stands a donkey.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

The donkey huffs, dropping a hoof loudly to the floor. And she swears, if it’s at all possible, that the damned thing is smiling at her.

“Loki!” Y/N barks at him, waving her arms around in frantic irritation. “Loki! Stop it! Not in the kitchen!”

A shimmering wave of gold tinged green magic radiates around the donkey, revealing a chuckling Loki, eyes watering, full of mirth.

“Oh, come now, it’s just a bit of fun.”

Y/N sighs dramatically, still caught between amusement and shock.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Love me. Laugh with me.” He takes a step closer to her, fingertips grazing her sides. “It would be such a dull time if you don’t laugh, darling.”

 **“Don’t touch me.”** Y/N says between strained laughs as his fingers playfully dig into her. **“We’re fighting.”**

“But I do love to hear your laugh.”

Catching her breath, she rolls her eyes. “You’re lucky I don’t mind your crazy.”

“Am I crazy darling?”

“Absolutely mad.”

“You are the one who wanted to make sweets in the shapes of little woodland creatures. But,  _I_  am mad.”

“I said I didn’t mind.” Y/N cups his face with her floured hands and chuckles. “Maybe we’re both mad?”

He covers one of her hands with his own, dipping his face till their foreheads touch. “Now that I don’t mind.”


End file.
